Since the weather turned warm, I’ve gotten pretty accustomed to going around the house without wig or hat, “au naturel.” At first I felt shy about even allowing Hubby to see me like that because I always considered the only thing standing between me and really ugly was my hair. While it wasn’t perfect, at least it was soft and shiny when clean and it fluffed just enough to fool people into thinking my head isn’t shaped like a boiled egg. Having been relieved from dog-sitting when my daughter and family took their dog home after a month-long vacation, I set about to vacuum the dog hair from the carpet one last time. Yea, sure. I was doing all this still dressed in my pajamas AND bareheaded.
After that it felt quite natural to take the morning paper out to the front porch to sit and read with Hubby while we waited for the inspector from the county planning office to come by and do a final inspection of the recent addition to the house. Naturally I lost all sense of time and when I did remember to check my watch I saw it was five minutes until 10 o’clock, the scheduled arrival time.
I flew to my room and threw my clothes on. I almost reached for a wig–trying to decide if the red one would be too “loud” with the turquoise blouse I’d put on or if the streaked brownish/blond one would be too hot–and reached instead for the fine-toothed comb in the drawer. I combed my hair–all half-inch of it on top, a quarter or less on the sides and back–and went out to show Hubby. He confirmed that it was indeed long enough to see a difference after the comb through. Then I sat down and picked up the paper.
When the inspector did show up a few minutes later, I stayed put. He came up on the porch and hardly glanced my way as he went inside with Hubby. A few minutes later, they both came out again and instead of hiding I sat there while he talked to us about the inspection. I looked straight into his eyes and made some comment or other about the procedures and didn’t bat an eyelid and then he left. I was surprised that I didn’t try to explain why my hair was so short–for all he knew I had it cut that way. No apologies.
Why in the world do women grow up thinking they somehow “owe it” to others to look attractive. It may be silly for some, but to me to have been able to present myself just as I am without any coverup at all, that’s a real breakthrough–and one to brag about.